Indian, Indian what did you die for?Indian says, nothing at all.Gently they stir, gently riseThe dead are newborn awakeningWith ravaged limbs and wet ...oulsGently they sigh in rapt funeral amazementWho called these dead to dance?Was it the young woman learning to play the ghost song on her baby grand?Was it the wilderness c***dren?Was it the ghost god himself, stuttering, cheering, chatting blindly?I called you up to anoint the earthI called you to announce sadness falling like burned skinI. "Easy come, easy go. Maybe you'll get promoted someday, if you don't burn your bridges." You mean if I let the right person-"But Rhonda fixed her with a fierce stare that cut this off before it could get out.The party was held at Rhonda's house, an expensive Tudor-style place in the Forest Hills neighborhood, far too big for one person. It was, Laura thought, like Deshona's, though Deshona had been married and had the house as a result. Rhonda had no excuse but ostentation.She had decided only. More

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